And Shut the Gates of Mercy on Mankind
by sagdragon3002
Summary: Isaaru nurses his losses after losing to Yuna in the Aeon battle.


Disclaimer: Final Fantasy X doesn't belong to me. The title of this work and the four italicized lines below belong to Thomas Gray, taken from his _Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard_. The only thing I come remotely close to owning is the town Riverridge, which comes from the name of a high school in my area, so I don't even really own that.

Title: _And Shut the Gates of Mercy on Mankind_

Summary: Isaaru nurses his losses after losing to Yuna in the Aeon battle.

A/N: I know, this isn't a brand-spanking new chapter to _Crash-Course_, but I'm working on it! In the meantime...a little compensation for the 3-plus months I've been away from the FFX fandom?

* * *

_The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,  
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,  
Await alike the inevitable hour:  
The paths of glory lead but to the grave._ –Thomas Gray, _Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard_

The bar rattled and rambunctious drunks made sitting hell for those who remained sober—whom were quickly rethinking their abstinence. The bar was filthy, rundown, and vaguely oppressive with the life-sized replica of an Evrae's head hanging from the wall behind the bar. The wood-worked sign above the entrance had long since lost the engraving of the name to weather and poor care, rendering the bar anonymous and unknown to the greater populace of Bevelle.

This suited Isaaru nicely.

He wanted anonymity. He wanted no risks of being recognized by Bevelle's priests and warriors. He wanted to muse in peace, and he couldn't do that when there were several people (only two of whom were of any concern to Isaaru) searching for him. Summoners and highly-revered people were rarely ever seen anywhere near a well-respected bar, much less dilapidated buildings, so he should be safely tucked away from searchers.

Then again, he wasn't a summoner anymore.

Isaaru's lips pursed as he recalled the battle against Yuna. It had given him no pleasure to be served with the order to find Yuna and kill her. But she had defied the law of Yevon, and had attempted to escape her punishment. Isaaru could not have anyone, not even the daughter of the famed High Summoner Braska, think themselves above Yevon's holy law.

That did not mean he needed to cause anyone else grief. Maroda, for once, did not argue with him and kept Pacce from wandering as he left for the Via Purifico. Isaaru had intended to dole out the punishment, leave that cursed place, and return to the pilgrimage before Pacce could get word of Yuna's betrayal and lose faith.

_So much for best-laid plans_.

Isaaru did not know what to say to his brothers when he found them again. A part of him considered continuing on with the pilgrimage, in spite of what Sir Auron said, but that was quickly discarded. He had failed in one simple duty: to detain Yuna. If he could not manage that much, then there was little hope for him to defeat something as powerful as Sin.

_"You will never **truly** defeat Sin."_

The ex-summoner shuddered as the woman's words haunted him. He wondered if Dona, Yuna, or any of the other summoners had encountered the woman called Belgemine and her odd advice. He, Maroda, and Pacce had come upon her on Mi'ihen Highroad, and Isaaru had accepted her aeon challenge. Her Ifrit had been difficult to defeat, but Spathi's strength had overwhelmed the fire-aeon in time. Isaaru had loathed the thought of harming Belgemine's aeon—it felt like he was attacking his _own_ aeons. So instead of a devastating blow using one of Spathi's special abilities, he had simply made Spathi deliver a regular attack to end the battle.

Pacce had been cheering loudly, Isaaru remembered. Maroda was nodding in approval, but Belgemine simply tilted her head at him. He had bowed and thanked her for the challenge, but she had not been done with him.

_"Summoner, you intentionally held back from using your aeon to its fullest abilities because you could not bear to bring down an aeon that resembled your own. You are too merciful. You will never **truly** defeat Sin."_

Isaaru still did not understand what she meant by "too merciful." He did not think that was a terrible trait at all, to grant your opponents a reprieve. But Belgemine had not explained any further, seemingly disappearing in the Highroad's foliage.

Was Yuna less merciful than he, then? If so, did _she_ have what it took to defeat Sin?

_But she is going against the teachings. She . . . she **killed** a maester, and—_

_A maester whom is now **unsent**_, the treasonous part of his mind pointed out. _What in **that** is good? At least Yuna is alive._

A waitress interrupted his thinking to demand his order. Isaaru nearly ordered water, thought it over, then changed it to something with a bit more of a kick to it. His days as a summoner were numbered, so he needed not remain a perfect holy-man for the rest of his days.

The rest of his days…. Somehow his brain couldn't wrap around the concept. Upon the day that the summoner-apprentice obtained his first aeon, they no longer had lives. It was more like … like a borrowed vessel, meant to do the biddings of their beloved Yevon and Spira. Successful summoners had no lives to live thereafter; failed summoners found themselves not only alive, but lost, shamed, or both. A life was something of a foreign concept to Isaaru; what did one do when they weren't faced with imminent death?

The waitress returned with his drink, and Isaaru sipped at the amber-colored drink, coughing a few times at the harsh taste. _One thing I know,_ Isaaru frowned at the mug in his hand, _becoming a mindless drunkard with a special place under the table is **not** one of the things I'll do with my rebirth._

And it truly was a rebirth. He now had all the time in the world (granted, if the Calm ever came) to go on that treasure hunt with Pacce, or have that debate over the myth of the heretic Omega with Maroda. He could climb the peaks of Mt. Gagazet, or dive in Besaid's waters, or settle down in a remote town and live a sedentary life.

One thing was certain, however. He would not return he and his brothers to Riverridge, their place of birth. The head chief would insist on removing Pacce to the orphanage, claiming that a failed summoner and his guardian would not be able to care for the boy sufficiently. That had been one of his primary reasons for "employing" Pacce as a guardian in the first place; he wanted to spare his brother the agony of being lost in the orphanage's horde of parentless children, even if he exposed the youngster to dangerous elements. There had been a slightly selfish reason as well, Isaaru admitted freely: to have some pleasure on the bleak pilgrimage (which Pacce did very well bring) and enjoy what little time he had left with his only two living relatives.

Isaaru set down his mug, thinking back on the last hectic week. The Al Bhed had kidnapped them and revealed to Pacce the true nature of the summoner's duty; he'd been on the receiving end of a rather blistery tirade from his youngest sibling after that. Pacce, Isaaru knew, would be happy his brother was off the fatal path of a pilgrimage.

But Maroda? His other brother was a mystery to Isaaru. He was supportive and contrary in turns, he practiced Yevon's ways and yet questioned them endlessly, he wanted Isaaru to live to see the Calm but be the one responsible for the victory over Sin. Isaaru didn't know how Maroda lived in his own head at times; he had given up trying to figure out his brother for years now. What would the young man say about this? How would he take this failure of his duty?

Sighing deeply, Isaaru relinquished his drink, got up, and left the bar. Lifting his head to view the darkened sky, the ex-summoner watched as the tiny lights of the stars appeared. A thick cluster shaped into a ball shone brighter than all the rest—the cluster reminded him of a blitzball, or pyreflies formed into a pack wandering alone in the expanse high above.

Deciding he had avoided his future for long enough, Isaaru turned and met up with his brothers at the rest point they had chosen outside the city. Pacce pranced and chattered on and on about what Isaaru had missed, such as a stampede of Yevon soldiers searching the area and blue and red butterflies dancing in the air. Maroda sat to Isaaru's left, watching his older brother critically through the fire.

When Pacce finally stuttered in his rambling to take a breath, Maroda inserted his own question, "Where are we going, Isaaru?"

The question distracted Pacce, keeping the boy quiet for mere moments before he burst, "I know! Let's go to the Calm Lands! I hear there's this _wicked_ old temple that used to be there, something called like Premium Temple o-or was it Ramen Temple…?"

Biting his lip, Isaaru returned his eyes to the sky once more. Again, he located the shining cluster of stars. The blitzball shape was more prominent than ever. Smiling faintly, Isaaru lowered his eyes and said, "Why don't we head down to Luca? I hear there's an excellent show being put together."

Blinking, Pacce repeated, "Luca?" Then, face brightening, he exclaimed, "Yeah! Let's go let's go let's go! And can we stop by the Travel Agency in Mi'ihen? I want to ride the chocobos! Ooh, ooh, and I want to ride on the shoopuf one more—no, two more—no, three—!"

Watching bemusedly as the boy continued his list of wants and pleases, Isaaru didn't realize Maroda was staring at him until the young man said softly, "We're giving up the pilgrimage?"

Shifting his gaze over, Isaaru tried to judge his brother's reaction. Finally, he replied, "No. We're making our own pilgrimage. One where the only ones who die are those who mean to harm us."

A long moment passed. At long last, Maroda stood and nodded. "To Luca we go, then."

"And I want to dodge _three hundred_ lightning bolts this time!"

* * *

After everything had been finished, after the disintegration of Yevon, after the last timbres had fallen from the destroyed cities and villages, after the last of the unsent were sent, Isaaru found himself following High Summoner Yuna into a private room after her incredible speech in Luca Stadium. He closed the door behind him and watched the woman.

She showed no sign of noticing his presence, moving to stand before a window. The rays of light took years away from her face, but still left her old, worn, resigned.

Isaaru was not blind. He had noticed the absence of Sir Auron and, possibly more important to the High Summoner, Tidus. He grieved their losses, and sympathized with the High Summoner who had brought the miracle all of Spira had longed for, yet forgotten existed.

"They tell you to bond with your aeon," Yuna spoke suddenly; she did not turn from the window, though Isaaru could see her reflection in the glass. "At the Temples, they say you need to know your aeon, trust your aeon, _be one with_ your aeon. And I did. I did that. But now…I wish I hadn't. It would hurt so much less now if I hadn't."

Confused by this line of discussion, Isaaru could only be silent. Yes, the aeons were now at rest—he had felt their departure one by one that fateful day. But her meaning, he felt, was still eluding him.

"I bonded with them, only to have to turn on them. Isaaru, I had to destroy all my aeons in order to set them free, in order to bring the Calm. I had to summon them, look them all in the eye, and say my goodbyes before my guardians and I killed them. They say the aeons are not truly alive, but simply pyreflies of sacrificed summoners, but… but…"

Isaaru hadn't realized he'd stopped breathing until he nearly choked exhaling air that he did not have in his lungs. Had he been in her shoes, forced to kill his aeons, one by one, in order to bring the Eternal Calm, say goodbye to Spathi before having Maroda or Pacce or he himself deal the final blow—

He couldn't.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't bear to betray the aeons he had given his vow to, his vow of protection and sacrifice.

He was too merciful to bring the Eternal Calm.

She shook now, her firm resolve cracking piece by piece as her head bowed further and further. Isaaru beheld the High Summoner in her distraught state, wracking his brain for anything to help the woman. She who had sacrificed everything so the people who had supported and persecuted her could have everything. But he could think of nothing. What did a failure of a summoner do in these circumstances?

_Follow in another's examples? But who do I know?_ Maroda would stand awkwardly until she had regained composure. His father, so dim in his mind, had never been there emotionally, and his mother was an even fainter influence. Pacce would…

_Well, better than nothing,_ Isaaru decided, taking a breath. Haltingly, he moved closer until he stood at her side and could put his arms around her shoulders. Her head lifted, and he could see tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Isaaru said. "I understand how difficult it must have been to destroy the aeons. I—I couldn't do it. And had I made it to Zanarkand before you, had I defeated you in the Via Purifico…Spira would never have found this Eternal Calm. Thank you, Lady Yuna." Her proper title now was High Summoner, but Isaaru forgave himself that slip of the tongue—the title was only three days old, after all. "Thank you for being the one who forfeited so much for us all. I know…I know the Fayth would have wanted you to do it, even when it cost them the end of their existence in Spira."

Yuna regarded him through her watery eyes, a smile quivering onto her face. "Thank you, Isaaru. You're a good friend." She put her arms around his neck, returning the hug.

The tension stemming from uncertainty eased away in him, and he patted her back before taking a step back. "If ever you need anyone to talk to about…about the pilgrimage, know that I will always lend an ear. Or," he grinned wickedly, "I'm sure Dona wouldn't mind trading small talk."

This time Yuna's lips pressed into a firm line to keep a giggle from bursting out. "I'm sure she and Barthello have more than enough to fill their plates without the worries of little old me," she said. She glanced at the door and said, "You should probably go; Rikku might think you're in here to convince me to rejoin Yevon or something."

Isaaru chuckled, nodding. "Yes, and I'm sure Pacce's going to give me an earful about disappearing again. Until next time, High Summoner Yuna."

"Goodbye, Isaaru," Yuna bowed slightly—noticeably without the traditional gesture of Yevon—and added quietly, "And thank you for understanding. I only wish…I only wish I could have shown more mercy."

Isaaru hid his flinch, returning her gesture of respect with his own head bow. "Mercy is wonderful, but at times…the merciful cannot truly defeat the sins of the world." Turning, he left and shut the door, missing the look of surprise and the name of Belgemine escaping from the High Summoner's lips.


End file.
